


The red forsythia and sunflower

by restlesswriting



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bad Puns, Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, It's just pure fluff, M/M, Slight Cussing, and hongjoong not being able to function without coffee, florist!AU, idk how to tag, inspired by that one white day vlive where seonghwa decided it was a good idea to wrap himself up, kim hongjoong is a florist, park seonghwa is a manager, seonghwa's surprised but he likes hongjoong, seongjoong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesswriting/pseuds/restlesswriting
Summary: Rule  #1 of being Kim Hongjoong’s friend: Never let Hongjoong out without caffeine because he turns into an absolute fiend with no filter.It gets even worse when he comes face-to-face with a good-looking guy in his flower arrangement class that Hongjoong was meant to be teaching. “You don’t need flowers, you’re the flower,” Hongjoong says to a surprised Seonghwa.Hongjoong’s never going to live it down.Or: Hongjoong’s a blithering idiot and should not be allowed to interact with handsome clients.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 8
Kudos: 261





	The red forsythia and sunflower

It’s a well-known fact that Hongjoong cannot function without coffee running through his veins. 

And it just so happens that he was running late this morning, which meant no coffee stop before the floral arrangement class he had to teach. Which is great, _fantastic even_.

Or it would have been, _if_ it were the typical class full of nouveau riche ladies who had too much spare time on their hands - they would have just laughed or tittered at his put-out expression. But no. Instead, he’s stuck in a tiny meeting room with corporate suits who “wanted to do something sweet on White Day for their significant others”.

See, Hongjoong without coffee is a disaster waiting to happen. He lacks the filter and composure that he usually does so when things don’t go his way, he folds, cracks and flares up. Except that this time, it was marginally worse. 

Because he ended up wrapping a sheet of paper (that was obviously meant for the flowers) around a surprised looking Park Seonghwa.

Whom he just met. A few hours ago.

A practical stranger.

_Fuck, he’s probably going to have to move across the globe._

* * *

“Remind me why a bunch of suits decided that a floral arrangement class is a ‘good bonding activity’? And why we readily agreed to do it?”

“Because it’s White Day, and what better way to kill two birds with one stone? They can keep both their bosses and partners happy,” snapped a weary Wooyoung, eyeing Hongjoong’s spray bottle warily, afraid that the older might retaliate. “It might bring in more business for us, if it goes well. Besides, it’s only one session Hongjoong, you won’t die.”

“But, why me specifically?” whined Hongjoong.

“It’s the age of social media, why do you think they requested you? If anything’s to blame, it’s your Insta-worthy bouquets, duh.”

Okay, so maybe Hongjoong’s guilty of posting photos of his arrangements online - it had taken years to perfect his craft, after all. If he wanted to share his works of art for validation, he should be able to, damn it. But having an online presence (hell, he managed to grow his base of followers from 0 all the way to 500,000) meant that he got requests to teach, pretty oftenly. 

And he’s fine with it, most days. The only reason why he’s protesting now is….

“Ugh. Okay fine, but just so you know, if things go awry, it’s on you and not me, you know how I get when I’m meeting white-collar dudes with no humour.”

“Yes, yes, you make bad jokes to break the ice and you giggle at the weirdest shit, but really, how bad can it be?”

Hongjoong stared at Wooyoung incredulously. “Must I really bring up the time where I made a fool of myself where I thought one of them was making a pass at me, and I told him to fuck off, _really loudly_ , in front of his colleagues?”

“And it turned out that you did not register that he had a wedding ring on his hand? Yes, I remember that story, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung deadpanned. “As you have told me many times before. But, you’re not even teaching the same group of people; it’s going to be completely new faces!” 

“Yes, but what if I wake up late again? Or if my usual coffee joint’s under renovation?”

“Honestly, what are the chances of that happening again?”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to make a rebuttal, only to find that he had no excuses left. Wooyoung, knowing that he made a logical argument, looked positively smug with his arms crossed and posture relaxed, waiting in anticipation for Hongjoong’s agreement, no matter how begrudging it was.

And, Hongjoong who was feeling petty, responded sullenly with: “I’m going to actually lose my marbles if one of them is even remotely good-looking.”

“Just stay caffeinated, and we won’t have any problems, yeah?” Wooyoung said evenly as he petted Hongjoong’s shoulder, as if he were placating a grumpy cat. Hongjoong gives him five seconds before swatting it away angrily, spraying once more at his red forsythias before stomping off to take care of his cacti.

* * *

**Hongjoong:**

SOS

Are you there?

I need help

I fucked up

On a colossal scale

And now I’ve locked myself in the washroom

**W00:**

What??

**Hongjoong:**

You know how I do questionable shit when I haven’t had my coffee?

Yeah well I might have

Done something stupid

And embarrassing

**W00:**

I’m sure it’s fine and you’re overreacting

**Hongjoong:**

I’M NOT OVERREACTING

I WRAPPED UP ONE OF THE MANAGERS

AND TOLD HIM “YOU DON’T NEED FLOWERS, YOU’RE THE FLOWER”

SAVE ME

DOES IT COUNT AS HARRASSMENT?

I’M PRETTY SURE IT COUNTS

RIGHT?

  
  


**W00:**

Did he look happy?

**Hongjoong:**

I DON’T KNOW

I DUCKED OUT IMMEDIATELY

**W00:**

Sorry, but you’re on your own

**Hongjoong:**

JUNG WOOYOUNG

DON’T YOU DARE

...

YOU’RE DEAD TO ME

Wooyoung hELP

I’m disowning you and getting new friends

* * *

To be fair to himself, Hongjoong only noticed Park Seonghwa because the man had zero skills whatsoever. He swears that the guy was born with two left hands; he’d crushed the fragile petals of his sunflowers and ripped the delicate paper with no finesse whatsoever. In fact, he’s never taught someone who he deemed as utterly hopeless till he met the manager.

And then, just as Hongjoong was about to help Park Seonghwa fix his mess of a bouquet, he got hit with the realisation that the manager was… startlingly handsome. Midnight black hair framing his delicate face, a contrast against his fair skin, a sharp jawline, and Hongjoong balked, had a mini panic, and proceeded to do what he does best, which is to choke as Seonghwa looked up, pleadingly.

It was like being beckoned over by a siren, and Hongjoong was a weak man (those dark eyes and the lashes, holy shit), so he immediately drifts over, grabbing a pair of scissors, a few sheets of wrapping paper and twine with the intention of rewrapping Seonghwa’s bouquet. Only he never quite makes it. With a couple of brain cells missing thanks to his lack of coffee, Hongjoong’s brain and heart decide, pretty unanimously, that it’s a great time to make a move on the guy.

“It’s fine,” Hongjoong muttered, deft fingers cutting the paper down to size. “Here.”

Seonghwa took it, thanking Hongjoong before proceeding to fumble through the steps, a slight frown marring his face. 

_Cute,_ Hongjoong thought. “Do you need some help?”

“No, I have it under control…” The beam Seonghwa shot the florist’s way immediately slid off his face when the bouquet fell apart again. “... I think.”

“It’s fine,” Hongjoong chuckled, moving behind the taller man to guide his hands. “You already chose the flowers you wanted to use, so that’s a step in the right direction. You just need to bunch the stems together, could you pass me the floral tape?”

Where Hongjoong used to struggle and stumble in the past, it came as easy as one, two, three now, hands flying through the motions to produce another bouquet. Only when he finished adding the finishing touches around the bunch did he realise that he had his arms wrapped around Seonghwa, who was currently admiring his handiwork.

“It’s pretty.”

“You’re pretty,” Hongjoong blubbered, mortified as he drew his arms back to his sides. “Wait - no, I meant. Well, yes, you’re pretty too. I - er, well, just so you know, you probably don’t need the flowers anyway, you’re the flower.” And then proceeded to dig an even further grave for himself by using the remaining paper to dress the shocked manager.

There’s an awkward pause, and the florist knew that the rest of his class had stopped what they were doing to listen in. Before Seonghwa could respond to reject his _terrible_ pick-up line (it is what it is), Hongjoong squeaked out a “Bye!” and ducked out in search of a toilet where he could lock himself - a mess of a human being - in.

* * *

That had been a good ten minutes ago. Enough time to text Wooyoung for help while having a mental breakdown in the men’s washroom. But since his friend was being exceedingly unforthcoming with advice on how to deal with his glorious fuck up, Hongjoong could only swallow his embarrassment and return to resume his class, lest they think he bailed or something.

Luckily for him, it was nearing the end of the class anyway. 

As the florist neared the door though, he hears Seonghwa’s colleagues fussing about:

“Did you see how he fled?”

“His face was so red-”

“I thought he was going to combust on the spot!”

“Why does your bouquet look like shit, when you’re the best amongst us at crafts?”

“Shut up.” _Seonghwa? It sounds like him._

“Is it because you wanted the attention of -”

Hongjoong coughed to announce his presence and stepped back into the room. Seonghwa threw him a small smile ( _was Hongjoong imagining it or did he look relieved and was that a flush on his face?_ ), while the others bustled back to their seats.

“Right, I see that most of you are done with your bouquets,” Hongjoong said as evenly as he could, moving towards the front of the conference room to dismiss them. “You lot have been lovely to teach. I think your White Day surprises will be a success, as long as you remember not to crush the petals before you deliver the bouquets. Remember to tag us in your Instagram stories, I can’t wait to see their reactions!”

Hongjoong thought that Seonghwa would be the first person out of his seat, given how he’d acted towards him earlier, but no, the taller man was dawdling, moving to clear the table and then packing up slowly.

Everyone else trickled out, leaving the duo alone.

“I,“ Hongjoong’s voice cracked, belaying his nerves. He cleared his throat to try again: “I’m just going to make a move first, bye.”

Before he could bid a hasty retreat and remove himself from the awkward situation, Seonghwa’s arm reached out and snagged his sleeve.

“We should talk.”

“There’s really no need to, I apologise, I was way out of line. Now if you could just let me pass, I’ll be on my way,” Hongjoong said, he can’t keep the desperation from colouring his tone, eyes boring a hole through the floor.

“You don’t have to apologise,” replied Seonghwa gently. “Could you… Please look at me? I wanted to give you something.”

Hongjoong didn’t know what to expect - a punch in the arm maybe, perhaps a slap, but he stole a glance up only to be greeted by the sight of a bouquet. The one that he helped Seonghwa to fix.

“I… don’t understand?” Hongjoong blinked.

“I made the bouquet... with the intention of gifting it to you.” Seonghwa coughed out, hand swiping through his hair nervously. 

“Ok, you’ve completely lost me,” Hongjoong faltered.

“Do you not know the language of flowers?”

“Yes I do, of course I do, but what about it?” Hongjoong asked, slightly miffed that the manager would question him on his profession.

“Sunflowers for adoration, longevity, and loyalty,” Seonghwa continued, soldiering through despite the blush now settling on his visage. _It makes for a lovely image_ , Hongjoong thinks to himself. “Red forsythia for… anticipation.” Seonghwa’s gaze and demeanour changes, becomes more serious as the last word is uttered out.

As if waiting for… an answer.

That only Hongjoong could give.

Too bad he still has no idea what the hell was going on: “What?”

Seonghwa took a breath, like he was preparing to take a huge leap of faith. “I’d like to get to know you better,” Seonghwa laughed. “Could we get dinner some time?”

“Didn’t I just make a fool of myself in front of you?” asked Hongjoong, feeling utterly baffled. Did his abysmal attempt to flirt… score him a date?

“Well, I didn’t put a stop to it, did I? And I’m not as bad at crafts as I made myself out to be today.”

“Wait, wait… Are you telling me you were messing around? I ought to kick you for it, you made me question my abilities!”

“Does that mean we’re no longer going on that date?” Seonghwa pouted.

“... I’ll agree to it,” Hongjoong acquiescenced. “But only if you pay.”

“Deal!” The answering beam from Seonghwa was so bright and utterly genuine that Hongjoong’s lips can’t help but lift in return.

“Oh yes, and for the record, I think you’re prettier than all the flowers combined.”

Of course, Seonghwa had to ruin the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Hongjoong: I don't believe you don't suck at crafts. Here, recreate the bouquet.
> 
> Seonghwa: I can do it!
> 
> \- 5 mins later -
> 
> Hongjoong: I knew it, you suck. Move aside, I gotta fix this.


End file.
